Only Morgan Atkins could unnerve Ahmeek Harris. It was something about her that burrowed beneath every guard he had in place and made him weak. The night’s revelations were heavy on his mind as he drove through the city streets. He had always had his reservations about loving Morgan. He had known if he got too close to her the result would be all encompassing. He had admired her from afar. He hadn’t missed a single detail. The curve of her smile made his chest ache long before he’d ever had the privilege to experience her love. The slant in her eyes when she laughed had always caused goose bumps to form on his arms. The fucking scent of her. Her skin. Even just when she used to greet him with a friendly hug had made his stomach hollow. Before Messiah ever mentioned one word about the pampered Morgan Atkins, Ahmeek had thought she was lovely. Whenever she would come around the way, Ahmeek’s day would take a turn for the better. She was a symbol of light, of warmth. No matter how dismal and small his world seemed, whenever he laid eyes on her, he was reassured that beautiful things did exist despite the ugliness around him.
She would wave at him, rings sparkling on each of her dainty fingers as she drove down the block. She had been young, too young, and Ahmeek knew Ethic was sending trespassers to early graves behind Morgan Atkins, so he kept it respectful because he knew hood niggas weren’t fitting for the likes of her. She was a goddess, and Ahmeek was merely a mortal, so he never made his move. Never took his shot. Then he watched Messiah sweep Morgan off her feet. He witnessed him give the least to earn the most of her, and he couldn’t do anything but suffer through it because Messiah had approached her first. When he had seen the intensity that they shared, Ahmeek knew that Messiah needed Morgan in his life. Whatever he had felt no longer mattered. Everything he saw in her, the things he admired, the ways she made him feel were null and void once Messiah claimed her for himself.
Then tragedy transformed all of their lives. Death—or what they had thought had been such—made them appreciate the borrowed breaths that God had given them. When Morgan and Ahmeek had crossed paths again, this time, he couldn’t let her pass him by. This time, he allowed her to sneak past his stoic nature, she peeled back all his layers, and now he was exposed, and it hurt like a motherfucker. Morgan gave love like a river flowed. Strong and loud. Snaking through the caverns of his soul, pouring into his heart, submerging him in a feeling so good that he couldn’t let go. Even when they weren’t speaking, she spoke to him. Her face was always in his head. Mind occupied. Heart occupied. Taken. A girl who no one possessed somehow had established residency in his life. He couldn’t be mad at Morgan for wanting her family to work. He loved her enough to know she deserved whatever her heart desired. He wanted her happy, even if it meant he didn’t come out of their experience the same. He didn’t realize where he was until he parked the car. Messiah’s place. The place he thought was low-key, but Ahmeek had known where to find him all along. He and Messiah had been many things to each other over the years—at the moment, they were enemies—but beyond it all they were brothers. Despite the rift in their bond, Ahmeek felt obligated to pull up on Messiah. He knew the emotional challenges that Messiah had. Knowing he now had two children had to be taking an emotional toll on him. Ahmeek was aware that he was the last person Messiah would want to see, yet still, he stepped out of the car.
He made his way to the building and defied his heavy heart as he placed knuckles to the space next to the metal 3 on the door. The number pulled a sentiment from him that was rooted in friendship. Three. Three hardheaded boys who had come up from the sandbox with nothing but ambition and pride to carry them to the top. Three friends. Three brothers. A bond so solid that they had survived war after war on concrete battle grounds. Messiah. Isa. Ahmeek. MIA because opposition knew that’s what would occur if there was ever static. The Crew would leave niggas MIA for anything less than respect. Messiah’s disappearance had demolished them all; his reappearance had torn down the frame that was left standing within Ahmeek. He knew they could never go back to being the same. Their love for the same girl had changed them. Still, he knocked because behind every inch of disagreement in his heart, he had just found out his brother had two kids. He had just found out that the brother who felt nothing was feeling everything right now, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle the flood of emotions.
He could hear Yara’s cries all the way through the door, and his heart pulled inside his chest. He wasn’t sure the twins could handle the sudden change either.
Surprise greeted him when Bleu pulled open the door.
“Ahmeek,” she greeted, a bit of relief in her tone. “Did you know?” she asked.
“Nah, B. I didn’t know this,” Ahmeek answered solemnly.
She stepped aside and motioned for Meek to enter.
“Yara, baby girl, you’re killing me. What’s wrong? What do you want, huh? What Daddy got to do to make you stop crying?” Messiah rounded the corner and reentered the living room, and when he saw Ahmeek, he stilled. “Fuck you doing here?”
“I heard, man,” Ahmeek replied.
“You trying to say you ain’t know?” Messiah barked. “Fuck you too, nigga. You knew that shit.”
“I don’t condone bullshit. You know that ain’t my vibe, G. I thought they belonged to Bash,” Meek answered. “She made it seem like—”
“She was hoeing with that nigga while I was around. Shorty would rather let me think she a ho than be attached to me,” Messiah said, face broken in disbelief and anguish. Yara wailed in his arms and reached for Ahmeek, opening her fists and closing them repeatedly in desperation. Ahmeek could see the brokenness in Messiah as Yara practically lunged for him.
“Just take her, man,” Messiah said. “She don’t want me.”
Ahmeek reached for Yara, and like magic, those cries calmed. She was so worked up she hyperventilated a bit, lip trembling, chest heaving as she laid her head on Ahmeek’s chest. Another shirt ruined. It was insult on top of Messiah’s injured heart.
Meek saw Messari peek out of the bedroom.
“Meek!” He ran across the living room, and Meek reached down to scoop him too. “Her want to go home Meek. Me too!”
Messiah lost his legs, sitting on the futon as Bleu sat with him. Ahmeek’s heart felt like an anchor were chained to it. These were his little people. These were babies he had planned to raise. He wondered if he had connected with them because of their bloodline to Messiah. Had it felt natural because their true heritage belonged to his brother? It was heartbreaking to think he may not be in their lives after this day. It prickled his eyes and tore out his gut. Morgan’s lies, Messiah’s lies, had turned their lives upside down. Or had he done that to himself by getting involved with her in the first place? He had known all along even before Messiah’s return that Morgan was a guilty pleasure.
“It’s a lot of change for them, Messiah,” Bleu said.
“Just take ’em, man. Take ’em back to Mo,” Messiah said. “They don’t want to be here. Fuck it.” The rejection of these two-year-old twins was the worst he had ever felt.
The sight before him tore Ahmeek right down the middle. Mo was pulling on one side, and Messiah was pulling on the other. This triangle of emotion was excruciating. He didn’t even know how he had become the man in the middle. He hadn’t wanted this. Hadn’t asked for this. A complicated love for a complicated girl had led him to this moment.
“If you were any other nigga, I would do exactly that, bruh. But you my brother, and I’d be an ain’t-shit nigga to let you miss out on them, man. They’re kinda dope as fuck,” Ahmeek said. “You just got to slow-walk this shit. You got to get to know your kids, and they got to get to know you. My nigga, you got kids. Can you believe that shit?” He scoffed. “This what the late nights was for. What the grind was for. They yours, man. The love they got to give—” He paused and shook his head. “You don’t want to miss out on that, man. I ain’t gon’ let you.” Ahmeek held a calm Yara and a sleepy Messari. “Yo, homie?” Meek directed that last one to Messari, and his head popped up. “I want you to be nice to my man. He loves you. Very much, Ssari. He’s your dad.”
“No, him not. You trick me,” Messari protested.
“Why would I do that? You my potna, right?” Meek asked.
Messiah didn’t even look up. He couldn’t. He just sat there leaned onto his knees in despair as Meek reassured Messari.
“Wight!” Messari agreed.
“So I would never lie to my potna, right?” Ahmeek asked.
Messari glanced down at Messiah and then back at Meek. His little brow furrowed more.
Meek chuckled. “Quit frowning, homie. That’s your daddy.”
“You like him? Him your friend?” Messari asked.
Ahmeek looked at Messiah, who glanced up in amazement as he awaited the answer. They both knew the answer would make or break Messari’s opinion.
“He’s my best friend, and I love him, homie,” Ahmeek stated, eyes burning so fucking badly because it took his all to admit it aloud. “Why don’t you free up my arms a little bit and sit with him. How that sound?”
“But I want to stay with you!” Messari cried.
Ahmeek kneeled. “I ain’t going nowhere, homie. That’s my word. Let’s just give it a try, okay? I’m strong, but your daddy? The strongest man I know.” Meek looked at Messiah. “Get your son, man.”
Messiah took him off Meek’s hands, and Messari frowned hard.
“You big, man,” Messiah said in amazement. It was like now that he knew he was his father, the kid’s presence hit him in the gut. He looked to Bleu, who smiled with so much emotion in her eyes that Messiah felt a drop of wetness grace his cheek as a tear fell. Bleu wiped it away. “You think you want to give me a chance?”
Messari looked back at Ahmeek, and Ahmeek gave a nod. Messari turned to Messiah and nodded too. “Yolly mean. Her not gon’ try like me, right, Meek?” Messari said.
“She’ll try,” Meek said. “B, take Ssari. Come get your daughter, Messiah.”
Messiah stood, swiping hands down his face. His overwhelm wore him down.
“So she feels everything, man. She can’t hear, but she can feel exactly what you feel. You can’t be on no bullshit with Yolly. She a straight shooter. Kinda like you. If you got some ill on your soul, she gon’ see the stain,” Ahmeek said, rubbing Yara’s back. “She kind of fussy at night. She likes to be rocked to sleep, and she ain’t taking no less than a hundred back rubs before her eyes start lowering. You want to try? She don’t bite, nigga. Fix your face.”
Messiah snickered. “Nigga, you sure? Cuz her little ass was on a nigga head with the crying,” Messiah said skeptically.
Ahmeek passed Yara, and she immediately lunged for him.
“Put her face to your chest. She likes to feel your heartbeat,” Ahmeek said.
Messiah did as he was told, and Yara fought him a bit.
“Nigga, you know how to tame pits. Tame your seed,” Ahmeek said.
“Nah, her bite a little worse than any dog I’ve ever handled,” Messiah said.
Ahmeek snickered because little Yara Rae had her daddy shook. “Nah, Yolly’s good money, bruh. She gives the best hugs and kisses. Little girl knows how to turn your whole day around. Come on, bruh. She’s yours. She gon’ follow your lead. Your heart can’t be racing, or she’s going to feel like she ain’t safe. Like you don’t got her, bro. Put your hand on the back of her head and show her it’s okay,” Ahmeek said.
Messiah swayed back and forth and followed instructions to an exact science.
“Yo, she stopped crying,” Messiah whispered. He kissed the top of Yara’s head, and he felt her little chest lifting, then falling as she breathed. Her little heart was thumping in her chest, and she was tense, but the more he rubbed those circles on her back, the more she relaxed. He turned to Bleu.
“She stopped, B,” Messiah said in disbelief.
Bleu’s face was wet in emotion. “It’s a shame that anyone came between y’all. When you’re on the same team, it’s beautiful,” she whispered, wiping her tears. She stood. “I’m going to go.”
“Nah, B. You stay,” Ahmeek stated. “I’ma slide. Congrats, bro.” The shit tore him up because he loved these twins. He loved their mother. He wanted parts. He’d take on every role they’d needed filled, but he felt unneeded. Messiah was their father, and Ahmeek finally realized why taking them off Bash’s hands had felt natural, because Bash was unnatural to them. Now that he was in the presence of their real father, he felt the connection despite the twins’ hesitation; he could sense the innate ownership that only nature could nurture. The twins had been unsettled for hours and were already giving in to the exhaustion of the eventful day. “At least call her and let her know they’re all right.”
Ahmeek walked to the door and pulled it open.
“Yo, Meek,” Messiah called.
Ahmeek paused and turned.
Messiah couldn’t speak. Didn’t speak. He was too stubborn to say thank you but too indebted to hate him. He threw up that three-finger salute. A finger for him. A finger for Isa. A finger for Ahmeek. Crew shit. Hood shit. Ahmeek returned the gesture. So much reluctance between two men who loved each other dearly. This unspoken sign was all they had to extend to each other, and it was a tragedy.
As Meek went to close the door, he heard Messari’s sleepy voice as his head popped up off Bleu’s shoulder.
“Meek! You didn’t tuck us in!” Messari shouted. He scrambled from Bleu’s hold and raced across the apartment. Meek bent down so that he was eye level with Messari.
“Your daddy got it covered, homie,” Meek said.
“Noooo, youuuu, pweasseee,” Messari said as he pulled Meek’s hand.
“Just get him settled, man,” Messiah said. Meek looked up, and he could see the distress in Messiah’s face.
“Nah, you got it,” Ahmeek said. He kissed the top of Messari’s head. “Ya’ daddy gon’ take real good care of you. I’ma see you around, homie. Love your mama for me, a’ight?” He hated that his eyes burned. This felt a lot like letting go. An excruciating goodbye. He stood and walked out the door. For the first time, he wished he had never gone to London to see Morgan. It was the first time he weighed what had been lost, and it pressed on his soul tremendously.
Morgan sat in the car, gripping her steering wheel, squeezing it repeatedly as she lingered in the parking lot of her building. She glanced over at the car she was parked next to. A navy-blue Jaguar. Bash’s car. He was inside. He was waiting, and Morgan didn’t realize how intimidated she was by him until now. Messiah had stolen her shields. The twins stopped Bash from being able to take things too far. There had been threats and tension, but she knew he tempered his reactions because of the twins. He hadn’t touched her in a while, and it made her think that the few times he had hit her had been a mistake he regretted. Now that she had to face him alone, Morgan was afraid. She had been trying to work up enough nerve to enter her own apartment.
“This is crazy,” she said to herself. She opened her car door and made her way up. She called Messiah one more time along the way. Voice mail. The phone wasn’t even ringing on his end anymore, and she was sure he had turned it off to avoid her calls. She wasn’t getting Yara and Messari back until he felt like returning them. She prayed it wouldn’t be too long. She wanted them home, not because she wanted to keep him from them longer but because she needed them. She needed to talk to him about what being their parents meant. His anger was so great that she was certain any chance they had to make their relationship work was gone. Just the way that he was ready to condemn for one mistake turned Morgan off. Messiah had done so many things to hurt her. He had crushed her time and time again, but the expectation was always forgiveness. Messiah wanted her to look past all his ill deeds, wanted her to love him like nothing had ever happened, and Morgan would have tried. She would have because he wanted her to, but this one sin of hers was judged heavily. This one mistake. This one thing that she had done to him, he judged harshly. Morgan could never forgive the hypocrisy of it all. The expectation that she could be hurt time and time again, yet she was cut off for hurting him once. He didn’t even try to hear me out. Didn’t even give me a chance to explain.
Messiah’s judgment didn’t feel good.
Morgan placed the key into her door and pushed into her apartment. Her breath hitched when she saw the candles and flower petals that decorated her living room. Bash sat hunched over on the couch, and upon hearing her enter, he looked up. She had expected anger, but she saw nothing but worry on Bash’s face.
“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Bash asked.
Morgan didn’t know how she was supposed to answer that question. If she was honest, he would get angry. If she lied, she would add another chain that kept her enslaved to him … indebted to him. Her eyes misted. It was never supposed to be this way with Bash. She had let things get so far out of hand.
“If I say yes, what’s going to happen to me and my family, Bash?” she asked.
Bash placed praying hands over his nose, blowing air into them as his eyes focused on the blank space in front of him.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Mo. I’ve never wanted to hurt you, but it seems like that’s the only thing you respond to … pain. It’s like you don’t appreciate any other thing I have to give. You run back to your past because its full of pain, so I keep asking myself if that’s what I have to give you for you to act right,” Bash said, his tone low.
“I don’t love you, Bash.” Morgan was so afraid to say those words, but she was more afraid not to. “If you’re honest with yourself, you can say you already know that, though. You knew when I came to London with you two and a half years ago that love was the furthest thing from my mind.”
“Who said anything about love?” Bash asked. “This is possession. I own you. There was an unspoken agreement. You get the respectability and legitimacy that comes with being a part of my family. I get you.”
“That would have been good enough for me before.”
“Before what?” Bash asked, chuckling.
“Before Ahmeek,” she said. “And before I knew that Messiah was alive. He’s their father, Bash.”
“I’m their father!” Bash debated.
“He knows, Bash!” Morgan shouted. “I told him about the twins.”
“Where are my kids, Mo?” he asked. His tone was intolerant, and he stood.
Morgan took a step back. “I couldn’t keep hiding them, Bash. He’s their father. He has a right to know.”
“Where are my kids?” Bash’s voice boomed off the walls, and he was across the room in seconds. Morgan didn’t have time to run. He gripped her face so tightly Morgan winced.
“They’re not your kids!” she shouted, pushing him off. “You can’t make someone love you! What’s wrong with you?!”
Bash jerked her so hard that Morgan felt dizzy. She grabbed the back of her head and staggered as he released her. He turned, rubbing the nape of his neck and raging as he placed balled fists to the sides of his head before pointing at her.
“What was I supposed to do?” Morgan screamed, hysterical as she threw her hands up. “I can’t keep him from his kids!”
“I can,” Bash said devilishly, maliciously, like he would make it his mission to keep Messiah away.
“What does that mean?” Morgan shouted, eyes flooding with tears. “You can’t do that!”
Bash pulled out his cell phone and pressed one button before placing it to his ear as Morgan watched in horror. She fought him for that phone, but one hand pushed her away. She fought harder. Reaching for it.
“Bash, stop. Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “You can’t do this.” She was over his shoulder, trying to walk around him to get to that phone because she knew whoever was on the other end had the power to blow up her life. Bash spun around suddenly, and the blow he delivered to her midsection pushed all the air from her lungs. Morgan folded into him, grabbing his forearm as he caught her. He rubbed her head as she gasped for air. Her fingers dug into his skin. Her face crushed in destruction. No one had ever put so much malicious intent behind touch that was meant for her. An aching spread through her as he stepped back, letting her fall to the ground.
“Bash, please!” she gasped, holding her side. Her ribs. She could barely pull in a breath. She was sure her ribs were broken. She was curled in a fetal position, and even the notion of standing up straight sent waves of pain through her body. Morgan tasted metal, and she lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, pulling back a bloody hand. He had hit her so hard she was spitting up blood.
“Ezra Okafor and Messiah Williams. Take care of it,” he said. There was a pause, and then an afterthought forced more out of Bash’s mouth. “Oh, and Ahmeek Harris. Let’s attempt to make something stick there too.” Morgan’s heart plummeted. He paused and looked back at Morgan smugly. “Yeah, I owe you one, Bill.” Bill Lance, commissioner of the Michigan State Police, and a friend of the Fredrick family. Bash had called in a favor.
“What did you do?” Morgan cried as he backed her against the wall.
Bash gripped her chin, and Morgan snatched her face away. He gripped harder. He pressed his lips to hers, and when he pulled back, her blood was on his lips. He fingered his lips and smirked triumphantly like he had won, like her pain meant victory for him.
“What you made me do,” Bash answered.
“Even if I stay,” she said as she staggered to her feet, using the back of the couch to add strength to legs that didn’t work. She was trembling, but she was determined to get up from the floor. “If you trap me here, I will never stop trying to get to them. They don’t even have to love me back, but I’ll always love them. It’ll never be you.”
Bash scoffed and then brought his face close to hers, so close the smell of his breath made her stomach turn. “Love them from the other side of a glass wall, Morgan, because by the time I’m done, they’ll never be free again,” Bash stated. “In the meantime, get your act together. There is no out. It can be a very good life if you let it.”
Morgan’s chest heaved, as just the thought tore her in half. He walked away, headed to her bedroom as Morgan slid down the wall. The hard realization that she would never be able to leave Bash caused her to break down. He had caught a butterfly, one that was so beautiful he would rather watch it die than set it free.